


Weak

by awkwardFawn



Series: Trying to Put Your Heart on Your Sleeve is Hard [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anal Sex, Booty Calls, Drunk Dirk, Established Relationship, Jake POV, Love Bites, M/M, NSFW, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Porn without plot- kinda?, Sex, alcohol consumption, cursing, songfic - Weak by AJR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 21:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14505735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardFawn/pseuds/awkwardFawn
Summary: ‘No thank you’ is what you should’ve said, but here you are in your jeep, parked in front of his apartment complex in the middle of the night, for the third time this week. Your name is Jake English and you’ve just accepted another invitation to hang out with your ex-boyfriend.(Originally inspired by the song "Weak" by AJR)





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awkwardFawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardFawn/gifts).



> This work is marked as gifted to myself. That's because it was supposed to be for my birthday, even though it's being posted almost a week later. So yeah. Happy 21st to me. Enjoy the boys and their problems and stuff.  
> Also a huge thanks to [ PeachBriseadh ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachBriseadh/pseuds/PeachBriseadh) for helping me with this and beta-ing for me. A real peach for sure. <3

‘No thank you’ is what you should’ve said, but here you are in your jeep, parked in front of his apartment complex in the middle of the night, for the third time this week. Your name is Jake English and you’ve just accepted another invitation to hang out with your ex-boyfriend. You’re actually not entirely sure why he’s still your ‘ex’ considering how often you two get together to go on little ‘friend dates’, as you’ve agreed to call them. Or how often you do things like this, where you agree to a ‘one-time’ hookup in which every time is the last time, until the next ‘final’ time. Then again, you also get into arguments whether or not the two of you are together. So it’s not as if a whole lot changed other than your relationship title and the language surrounding what you do when you’re together. 

You would put your relationship with Dirk in the “it’s complicated” category, but to be entirely honest, you’re just glad it still exists in whatever the blazes kind of form it currently does. You often think about just getting back together with him - considering it isn’t much different than being apart - but you don’t want to ruin how well things are going at the present moment. Also, you’re quite the milksop when it comes to admitting that you were wrong. After all, you were the one who broke it off last due to a particularly nasty argument. You two have been on-again, off-again for _months_. At the present time, you aren’t entirely sure if this could be considered on or off. Regardless, he asked for you. So unable to say no, here you were.

You decide not to make him wait any longer and clamber out of the jeep, strolling right on up to his front door. Per usual he takes around a minute and a half to answer. It’s almost like he wants to make you wait just a little, much like how you made him wait for you whilst sitting in your car. But that all seems too petty and overcomplicated. You’re positive he’s just taking his time or was busy doing something and had to find a pause. 

As soon as you’re inside, you’re being pushed against the door and kissed breathless. He stands on his toes in order to reach your mouth properly, an action that never ceases to amuse you. Honestly he’s only about two inches shorter than you, so it really isn’t necessary, but it is rather cute. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist and push back, savoring the taste of orange soda and … something else. 

You can’t quite put your finger on it at first but there’s definitely an undercurrent of something bitter. When he sighs into your mouth and your tongues meet, you pick up on it just a hint more. It’s certainly alcoholic. Brandy, perhaps? No. Not quite. And then it hits you. The only booze he even has in his disposal is the whiskey you gave him last christmas. He doesn’t purchase alcohol for himself, so he wouldn’t have anything else. What the hell is he doing drinking that at this hour? 

You lean back and look him in the eye for a moment. He smiles. He genuinely smiles at you without hesitation, cheeks rounding, all toothy and content to see you. And in that instant, you know that he’s fucking wasted. 

“Dirk, why do I taste whiskey on your breath?” you ask him in a calm tone, knowing damn well that if you get upset he will follow suit. With his inebriated state, he can get the silliest mood swings. He’d be likely throw a fit and kick you squarely in the ass and out of his apartment if you got cross with him, which is certainly not something you want. So you keep things nice and pleasant as pie.

“You don’t?” He tries, voice lilting upwards in tone at the end. A moment passes before he realizes that you won’t take the bait. “Ok fine, so I had a few drinks earlier.” he admits, looking down at his feet. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal? Dirk you _know_ that I don’t like partaking in our little shindigs like this late at night when one of us is liquored up.” You sigh, rubbing circles into his lower back

His head snaps up and he grins at you even wider than before. “Here. I’ll fix this. Do you want a drink too?” Always the clever mind, that Dirk. You should have said ‘when one or _both_ of us’ had more sail than ballast. But instead you unintentionally volunteered yourself to drink with him.

“I, ah, I don’t think so. I’m quite fine at the moment.” You chuckle, knowing that regardless of what you responded with he was going to try and fetch you something.

You’ve been in this situation enough times to know that he doesn’t like to drink alone anyway. You ponder if that’s the entire reason he’s invited you over, but your mind scratches the thought off the metaphorical drawing board. If he was only interested having a drinking buddy he’d likely call Roxy before you, knowing she’d be less reluctant to pick up the bottle than you.

You’re pulled out of your own tedious thoughts when he slips from your arms and slinks to the kitchen, clearly trying to catch your eye by swaying his barely-there hips with pronounced emphasis. It was certainly amusing, you’d give him that much.

“I’ll make you a drink. You usually do Irish coffee, right? Fuck. I don’t have coffee, though. Does hot cocoa work?” he rambles, rummaging around in the refrigerator for Frig knows what. This perplexes you, considering that one wouldn’t normally find coffee or cocoa in the fridge, and certainly not the fridge of one Dirk Strider. You decide not to comment on that detail though.

“Really, Dirk. I’m fine. You don’t have to do all this.”

“But I _want_ to. You’re my house guest. Take a seat. _Relax_.” He winks at you before ducking around the corner and out of your line of sight. You move to the couch in the meantime, attempting to recall a previous encounter with Dirk that had been more odd than this one. You come up empty handed.

A few moments later he comes back and places a mug in front of you. He had apparently made you some sort of chocolate-y whiskey drink. It wasn’t hot cocoa though; tepid at best and more whiskey than chocolate. You take a fairly large sip and immediately regret it, coughing and spluttering from the powder that definitely did not dissolve.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, sitting next to you on the couch and frowning. It was admittedly quite odd to see him so blatantly expressive.

“Oh no, it’s … it’s alright. Certainly not coffee, but I can manage.” You chuckle, taking small measured sips from there on out.

Before you can really make a dent in the monstrocity, it’s plucked from your hands and placed on the coffee table in front of you. Then, Dirk outright takes the liberty of crawling into your lap and straddling your hips; an action he would normally protest, claiming it too embarrassing for him to manage. Another strange first, but like hell you’d complain about this one. You rather liked him sitting pretty in your lap like this.

Without further hesitation his hands splay across your chest and his lips practically meld to your neck, nipping at the bare expanse and likely to leave a mark if he keeps it up. You gasp in response and freeze for a mere second before your hands gravitate to his back, running up the stretch of it and idly thumbing each vertibrea of his spine along the way.

He leans up near your face and presses close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over your neck and sending shivers through you. Then he whispers, “Carry me to the bedroom so we can have some _real_ fun. I’ll let you take me however you want, any position, I’ll even ride your cock. What do you think, Jake?” His hands play with the buttons on your shirt, just fiddling with them. You know damn well he could undo them if he wanted, but he doesn’t.

You’re reeling just a little bit from what you’ve just heard, shocked into place. What happened to the guy whose pride wouldn’t let him get even close to dirty talking you? You could have chalked it up to the alcohols influence, but you’d seen him drunk before and he wasn’t normally like this when he was wasted. Either way he was grinding against you now, ass pressed flush against your crotch in an unforgiving manner. Your mind quickly clouds away from sensical thought and instead towards the tantalizing offer he just threw on the table.

You lift him and stand up, carrying him to his bedroom. You know this place so well by now that it isn’t too terribly difficult to avoid bumping into wall corners to get there. You lay him down on the bed and resume kissing him, the taste of whiskey even stronger now that you both had some in your system. Though you haven’t had nearly enough to even be tipsy.

He tangles his hands into your hair and pulls gently, causing you to groan into his mouth and part your lips. This is, of course, exactly what he was aiming for. Dirk slips his tongue into your mouth and you can’t help but to suck on the muscle, earning a groan from him in return. An eye for an eye.

Now able to move past the taste of alcohol on his palate, you notice that he still has the faint taste of something that you couldn’t possibly describe as anything other than ‘Dirk’. Something unique to him, omnipresent when you kiss, and absolutely downright addictive to you.

You work your hands up his sides, under his shirt, and he half gasps half giggles into your mouth as you brush past his ribcage. He’s the most ticklish person you’ve ever met, but that isn’t your goal today.

He pulls away for breath and looks up at you with those big golden eyes. That’s when you notice another odd occurance, he’s completely devoid of shades of any shape or form. What kind of a day had he had to disregard all of his usual barriers?

Before you can even think to say anything about it, he rolls you so that he’s now on top and so his ass is resting pleasantly atop your groin once more. He begins to grind down onto your semi-hard-on in a way that has you gasping for breath and your hands scrambling for purchase on his hips. Your mouth makes an O-shape but no noise as he rolls in just the right way to tease you. You try to press him down harder, but he’s infuriatingly resistant and impossibly smug.

You glance up at him as he continues teasing you, running his hands gently over your arms and chest now. He’s unfairly handsome in this dim lighting and your eyes trace the shadow of his jaw down to his neck and back up again. His teeth worry his bottom lip for a moment before he crosses his arms in front of him and strips his shirt off, moving slowly to give you a show.

Like magnets, your hands are attracted to his abdomen, tracing the newly exposed skin and reacquainting yourself with it. Those freckles never get old, every single time you see them they take your breath away. Just laying eyes on them and how they pepper his pale skin in the most delicate and intricate of patterns has you in a whole other world of adoration for this man.

At one point you’d even envied them, but now you just want to kiss every single one of them until he’s a well-loved, well-appreciated, shivering mess in your arms. You wish he’d let you do that, but you also know that if you tried today he’d likely pass out on you before you finished.

So instead you continue to let your hands run over his torso, trailing them down to squeeze his hips. You hook your thumbs into the front loops of his jeans and pull him forward some. He gets the hint and leans in close over you, not quite kissing you but letting his lips brush over yours in a teasing way that he knows will drive you crazy. Every time you move in for the kill, he leans back, keeping you from your goal.

His hands wander down to the edge of your shirt and push it up as they try to explore your tanned skin underneath, not even bothering with the buttons. Once your chest is bare he takes a moment just to soak in the sight of you. Or at least you assume that’s what he’s doing by the way he’s biting his lower lip, his eyes scanning over you much like a child’s would upon seeing freshly baked confections.

“Your chest is one of my favorite sights, you know that?” He murmurs finally.

“Likewise, but I’m sure I’ve told you that before.” You muse, thumbing at his hips idly.

He gives an affirmative hum, then he leans down and starts peppering kisses across your neck and collarbone, working his way down your chest. You figured he’d come back up after passing your navel, but he continues.

He even goes so far as to scoot down your body and attempt to undo your fly with his teeth; A trick that you’re positive he read about on the internet. He just barely manages to pull it off while as intoxicated as he is, and you lift an eyebrow in genuine surprise. You can’t keep your eyes off of him, eager to see what other sorts of surprises he has in store for you.

The way his hair falls in his eyes and the predatory look on his face, now that your pants are undone, is almost too much to focus on. “Someone’s been enjoying the show,” he muses while pressing a firm hand over your stiffy.

You gasp and nod in response, earning yet another grin from him. It startles you how quickly you’re disarmed by the expression. He never grins like that. Come to think of it, he never does any of this. This assertiveness, none of it is like his usual demeanor. He almost always waits for you to make the first move when it comes to intimacy, too worried he’ll scare you off. In a brief moment of unexpected clarity you take a few deep breaths and manage to voice your concerns.

“Are you sure we should be doing this, you as inebriated as you are? I certainly don’t want to take advantage of you and I can’t help but point out that you don’t seem all there. That is to say you seem a few cards short of a full deck at the moment. Is something the matter, dove?”

“Jake, I’m fine. You’re fine. We’ve both been drinking, and besides ... I want this.” He pushes your pants down some and tries to press on, leaving you more than a little suspicious still. You suspect there’s a reason he’s been drinking so heavily tonight and he’s withholding that information purposely. You open your mouth to say something more, but right as you do he starts palming you over your boxers. Your words fly right from the forefront of your mind straight into the abyss.

“Blast!” You huff. “I’m _trying_ to have a conversation with you here.” You protest, attempting to not get too hot under the collar from his ministrations.

“And I’m _trying_ to get you to fuck me.” He mimics, looking ever so smug about his comeback. Then he presses his mouth to your cock over the fabric and you can’t help the way your breath picks up and your hips twitch. He’s really not playing fair tonight.

“Well you’re doing a bang up job of that.” You mutter under your breath. You’re not sure if he heard you. If he did he shows no indication, only continuing to tongue at your crotch and peering up at you with those tangerine sunset peepers. And just like that you break. You give in, let your head fall back on the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, and thread your fingers through his hair.

There’s a small voice in the back of your mind chastising you for not having more self-control than this, but the rest of your being is quick to tell that voice to shut his everfiggin pie trap and enjoy this. You’re normally a strong-willed man by nature, but right about now with his mouth breathing hot on your dick, you couldn’t care less. You’re more than happy to let him win this one.

You feel his lips curl into some sort of half smirk against you, and then there’s a tug at your waistband. You lift your hips for him and let him slip off the offending undergarment. You feel the bed shift and when you open your eyes he’s standing up and stripping off his remaining apparel. Right. Wouldn’t make much sense for only one of you to be in the nude. Rather counterproductive.

He then grabs a small bottle from his dresser and climbs back on top of you. This time he’s on all fours, knees resting just outside of your thighs. He pops open the cap of the lube and coats a few of his own fingers with the substance, much to your surprise. He always has you prepare him, but clearly he wants to give you a show this time. You don’t mind one bit as he reaches back and starts stretching himself. It’s a lovely thing to be able to see his face during this. He’s well versed with this sort of thing by now so he’s making soft little “oh”s and doing his best to make eye contact with you. You can’t help but wonder if he does this on his own when you aren’t around.

Then he lets out a strangled moan, lips stretching into a wider “O” shape. You presume he’s found his own prostate. You can hardly handle just sitting there and watching now, your idle hands fighting the urge to get involved.

You decide it’d be a crying shame if he didn’t at least know how lovely he looked like this, so you lean up and tell him, breathing saccharine words across his lips. Your hands move to frame his jaw and neck, soft touches to tease him and drive him just a little more mad.

“You look absolutely bewitching, Dirk.” You pause to wet your lips, and watch as color floods to his cheeks and heats them. “I bet that’s such a pain, having to use your own fingers like that?” Posed as a question purposely. He nods and keeps his eyes averted, unable to meet you gaze. “I’d bet you wish they were mine instead. Don’t you?”

He manages a breathy “Please, Jake.” You take it as encouragement to keep talking.

“Cripes Dirk, you’ve really got yourself worked up there.” You reach down between his spread thighs and stroke his length slowly. “You should really let me help you relieve some of this tension. You’re so strung out, love.” You tease. He whines in response and seems to speed up the process of stretching himself, a thing you just barely notice from your peripheral by the way his arm starts more rapidly flexing and relaxing in turns.

“Don’t overdo yourself, chickadee. We wouldn’t want you to be ill prepared now.” You purr, your free hand cupping his chin. His cock twitches in your other hand and he lets out a desperate whimper. You can tell that you’re just being too cruel now so you ease off and lay back once more, letting him finish his preparation.

Once he’s ready, he wipes his lube-covered hand on the bedspread and sits up in your lap. His demeanor seems to have shifted sometime between the dirty talk and the preparation, because he gives you this puppy-dog look that you’ve only ever seen him have when he’s deep in subspace.

“What is it that you want, darling?” You ask innocently, just admiring those damned freckles again.

Dirk chews at his lip but hesitates to say anything, just sort of glances down between the two of you then back at your face. He’s being shy, and as fetching a tude as it is on him, you really want to hear him ask for what he wants right now. Or maybe beg for it. Whichever comes first.

“Can you tell me what it is you’d like me to do?” You try again, swiping a few stray strands of hair away from his eyes and nonchalantly petting his hair. He shakes his head slowly, and you raise your eyebrows at him and give him a look that tells him you’re more than willing to make him beg for it. Stern is how you’d describe it. You’re sure he’d have other adjectives.

He crawls closer to you and leans up to whisper in your ear, as if that alone would make it less embarrassing for him. You feel him take a deep breath and then he whispers. “I want to ride you.” Well that’s not nearly as detailed as you were looking for.

“Is that all?” You coax. He shakes his head no again. “Mind telling me the rest then, pet?” You run your hands across his back, over his thighs, just appreciating the man in front of you.

He swallows audibly and takes a deep breath, but continues to whisper to you. You love being able to drag him out of his poise and have him be the one floundering for the right words for once. He pauses for another moment and then nips at the shell of your ear.

“You really wanna know? Ok. Fine. I want you to fuck me, Jake. God, do you need me to draw you a diagram?” A chuckle escapes you at that. He ignores it and presses on. “Ruin me. Make me scream your name and fucking rake my nails down your back. I’ve been asking for it all night. Haven’t I been patient enough? Babe. Please. I need you.”

The last three words strike a chord with you. Does it mean he wants to get back together with you? Your brain races for a second through the possibilities, but you decidedly pick that train up off the track and pack it away for another time. Instead you focus on all the rest of the things he asked for, being more than willing to deliver that for him.

He makes a noise somewhere between embarrassed and frustrated, likely from your lack of response, and you hush him and press a gentle kiss to his neck. Then a few more kisses to his neck, and before you know it you’re sucking a hickey into the skin and he’s keening above you, more than a little desperate for some stimulation instead of teasing.

You pull away with an audible smack of your lips and grin at him. “No worries, peach. You’ll be right as rain in no time if I have anything to do with it.”

He groans, and this time you know it’s not because of anything you’ve physically done to him. This one sounds more like the sound he makes when you say something particularly daft in public. You snort just a little and smile at him, leaning up to kiss his temple.

“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we.” You practically fucking beam at him.

He deadpans. “God dammit, Jake.”

“Listen, if you want my bavarian beefstick, you’re just going to have to deal with all my other witticisms and phrases, fair trade?” It seemed pretty darned fair to you, at the very least.

“For the love of god, just- _fuck_.” Well that sure shut him up. You found yourself reaching underneath him, two fingers deep without issue and spreading them apart, checking his work. A tremor works its way through his body and you know you have him now.

“Could you be a dear and pass me the lube, Dirk?” He huffs and passes it to you, his face still holding a bit of that earlier pique. That simply won’t do. You press your digits in deeper and immediately seek out his prostate, hitting target without fail. He keens louder than he has all night and his legs wobble just a bit.

You decide to be merciful and not waste any more time teasing him, you remove your fingers to pop open the little tube and slick yourself up for him, lining yourself up. He wastes no time in pressing down, slowly impaling himself. If you didn’t know better, you’d guess that he hadn’t so much as even wonked his conker since the last time the two of you got together.

He was like a man wandering the desert without a drop of water, desperate with the way he pressed on in his quest. When he finally paused to adjust, you offered your hand for him to brace himself. Lacing your fingers together, he propped himself up on your strength, able to sit up straighter instead of hunching to reach the bed.

You open your mouth to ask him if he’s doing alright and he just holds up the hand that you aren’t holding, fingers spread in a way that signals ‘stop’. You do just that.

“Just, give me a second.” Dirk supplies, helpfully.

You get tunnel vision for a moment. He just looks so damn perfect like this. What with his head tilted down between his hunched shoulders, his blond hair a downright ruffled mess and the love bite you left on his neck blazing bright red and proud. Even more proud is his cock though, standing at full mast, just for you. All for you and only you. All his freckles on display for your viewing. Your eyes sweep over the patterns across his arms and shoulders, down his chest and back up again.

Dirk catches you staring. You know you’re caught because he clears his throat and shifts in your lap, rolling his hips just so. You shake yourself out of it and meet his eyes.

“Ready, love?” You ask, cheeks coloring just a little, but still grinning like the dickens.

His face softens some from annoyance and a little more towards something you’d guess is akin to amused admiration. “Yeah, ‘m ready.” He drawls ever so slightly, squeezing your hand.

His other arm reaches for you and you gladly, offer to let him brace against you. Both hands clasped, fingers laced with yours, he bolsters himself up until only your tip remains inside. Then he plummets back down, almost completely dropping his weight with it. It’s damn good, but a little hard, you think. You both moan anyway though, and you can’t help but smirk knowing that he sometimes likes that little bit of pain from thrusting too hard or too deep.

“Take it easy there, plum. No need for contusions tonight.” You squeeze his hands again and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Sorry.” He bites his lip, letting it drag out slowly from between his teeth. A tease for sure since you’d very much like to be the one doing that.

Before you can attempt to assure him that he really shouldn’t be sorry, he’s lifting himself again. This time he slides over your length ever so slowly on the descent and the slow drag puts you in utter bliss. _Yes_. That is exactly the kind of lovemaking you were hoping for.

You let out a guttural moan and you can feel Dirk’s eyes snap to you with that one. You know you’ve been had. Your goose is cooked so to say.

The notion is only confirmed when he grinds down on you once fully re-seated and then draws up slowly again. He continues like this, torturing and teasing you, slow pulls up and down over your aching cock, very very gradually speeding up but never fast enough.

“D-Dirk. Please. This is. Torture. Of the. Sweetest. Devise.” Each short phrase huffed out and punctuated by another drop down onto your cock and the cacophonous slap of skin hitting skin. “Ple-ase” The sound of that word coming out weak and broken, as if you were going to cry if he didn’t get his arse in gear soon.

He leans down a little more over over you, arms folding as you are still helping to hold him up. “You want more? Why don’t you just fuck me already, Jake?” He purrs, his voice taking on that deeper timbre that it gets when he’s got you inside him.

_Of course._ You think to yourself. It was that easy this whole time wasn’t it? You’re not just a spectator here, you are _very_ much involved.

Dirk doesn’t right himself though, instead choosing to lean forward on your arms like that and bounce his arse over your tip, an even worse tease. You take it as an invitation and buck your hips up to meet him.

The moan you’re met with is a warm and full sound that resonates as if you personally plucked it from his throat without his permission. You’d like more than anything to draw that noise out of him again and again. Not to mention, from this position you can see all the faces he makes up close and personal. All the lovely O shapes his pretty thin lips take on, and all the different ways he scrunches his eyes or his nose.

He’s beautiful.

You repeat the movement again and again, his hips rutting back to meet you while you thrust up into him. His arms buckle and he has to let go of your hands, catching himself on the bed and fisting the sheets. With your arms freed now, you take the opportunity to grip his hips and help guide him, sliding deeper with each thrust and practically pulling him over your dick.

Your grip is tight as a drum head and you’re almost sure that his hips will be bruised by morning, but the look on his face tells you that he gives zero fucks. The slap of skin is a more raucous sound now, alongside the clangor of your collective moans and the rapid staccato of shallow breathing. A stark contrast to the stillness of the world at this hour.

All of your senses are screaming for him. Everything in your being, every molecule and atom that you are comprised of, all chanting “Dirk, Dirk, Dirk.” You find that you simply can’t help yourself anymore and you cradle your arms around his back before rolling him on the bed. You hover over him for a second and he looks up at you with genuine surprise on his face. Ducking in, you kiss him fervently, hooking his knees up with your arms and sliding back into him and immediately hitting his prostate.

Dirk wails openly against your mouth, unable to keep up with kissing when he’s in this much bliss. His hands come up to your shoulders, raking his nails across your skin and leaving little red lines. You move from kissing his lips to sucking on his collar bone, never once letting up your merciless pace of pounding his peach.

He moans even louder with each plunge, his body growing taut, and you can tell he’s getting close. Of course you’re not far from him, letting go of your fair share of groans and keens, most of them muffled by the soft supple skin you’re bruising with your mouth. Nevertheless, you quicken your pace and pointedly avoid stroking his weeping erection, wanting to get closer without having him topple too soon.

“J-Jake!” He screams, and you just _know_ that’s your warning. The sound alone makes you throb inside of him and your thrusts become erratic and uneven.

A second later he’s spilling out across his own stomach, shuddering and arching his back up towards you, and you just can’t hold out any longer. You pull off of him, letting his legs drop to the bed, and stroke yourself maybe three more times before you’re releasing onto the sheets.

You collapse to the right of him, just trying to even out your breathing enough to speak again. He’s still tremoring some, so you presume that you must’ve done something right. He surprises you for what seems like the millionth time that night, curling up beside you and actually initiating the cuddling. Normally you’d have to ask him for that.

You want to tell him how adorable that is. You want to tell him a lot of things, like how amazing he was or how lovely he sounded. Things like how you greatly enjoyed seeing his face this time around and that he’s such a darned minx sometimes with his teasing.

“English, I swear if you open your mouth and something ridiculous comes out, you’re not spending the night tonight.” He mumbles, somehow reading your mind.

“Right.” You agree, knowing better than to test him on something like that. Then again, you can feel his face muscles shifting to a smile while he rests his head on your pectoral. You know he isn’t mad at you.

A small part of you also wants to ask what this means moving forward because he’s been awful darn considerate of you this evening and seeing his emotions more openly is a nice change of pace. You can’t help but wonder if he was only being open because of the alcohol though, or if something else happened today that made him behave in such a manner.

There’s a long stretch of silence before you can work up the nerve to ask him anything. You don’t want to ruin the afterglow, but this is sort of important.

“Hey, Dirk…”

“Yes?” He lifts his head to look at you and golly gosh if those aren’t some beautiful butterscotch blinkers.

Stay on topic, Jake.

“I was um, .. I was wondering why you’d invited me here in the first place tonight.” You pause and realize that sounds accusatory. “Not that I minded at all. I just. Was this the only reason? To wrassle around in bed once more?”

“Are you asking me if I’m using you for sex?” He pins you with a warning glare and you have to double back again.

“No. Not at all what I was thinking. I just wanted to know if maybe there were something more that you were after tonight?” You press.

“If you’re asking if I still want to get back together with you, the answer is yes. Jake the ball has been in your court this whole fucking time, you know that right? You’re the one who broke up with me last.” He sits up, and without his heat on you the room feels much colder now. You don’t like that he’s pulling away and distancing himself.

“Right-o. I do remember that. I just didn’t want to assume that you wanted that still if you, in fact, didn’t or if you’d changed your mind somehow.” You chuckle awkwardly and scratch at the back of your neck. You don’t fail to notice him watching the way your muscle flexes as you stretch to reach the spot.

“Jake …. I’m never going to change my mind ok. My pride got in the way of calling you for a long while, thinking you wanted nothing to do with me. That’s why I was buzzed when you got here. I guess you could say I needed some liquid courage.” He sighs, the last bit coming out a little more quiet. You know he isn’t proud of it.

“Well it worked, love. I’m here. But you should know that I’d come at your beck and call any time, any day.” You lift a hand to cup his chin and direct him to look you in the eye once more. “And Dirk, I’m sorry for breaking things off like I did. It was a stupid fight, and though I can’t say we won’t fight again, I can say that I won’t leave you again. You do trust me, right?”

He nods his head in your hand and manages a “Yes.”

“One more thing, chickadee.”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He looks at you like you’d just cut your own head off. You very well may have, you aren’t sure. You panic, wondering if that was perhaps too far. Maybe it was too soon to confess such feelings? You meant every word, but what if Dirk wasn’t ready to hear it?

All your thoughts slam to a halt.

“I love you too.” He breathes, nice and soft. You barely heard it, but it was there. It was there and he said it, and that’s all that matters.

He’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Tumblr ](https://aporetic-elf.tumblr.com/) is here if y'all wanna check that out.


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